Be Okay
by JERUSALEM's Bride
Summary: It is, he later thinks, the roll of her hips and the line of her back, something Sam knew so well. Her hair is loose gold curls that brush past her shoulders and he is suddenly struck with the memory of that hair tangled in his fingers and it hurts.


**Be Okay**

**~By JERUSALEM's Bride**

Sam is standing downwind of the crappy beach bathrooms, waiting for Dean and burying his toes in the sand when he sees. It is, he later thinks, the roll of her hips and the line of her back, something Sam knew so well. Her hair is loose gold curls that brush past her shoulders and he is suddenly struck with the memory of that hair tangled in his fingers and it hurts.

Sam is striding barefoot across the boardwalk before he can stop himself, probably getting his feet full of splinters but who cares? He reaches out and cups her round, small shoulder in his hand, her name on the tip of his tongue when she turns.

Grey eyes and a too small mouth and a chin that is more pointed than it should be. The name on his lips catches and stumbles and all that comes out is a garbled, wordless sort of gasp.

"Can I help you?" her eyes are guarded and Sam almost laughs. Of course, stranger danger. He doesn't know her, she doesn't know him. But, _God_, even if her face is completely different, she smells just like- _just like-_

"I'm sorry." he barely chokes out, "you just- you looked like- she's dea-" and he can't even finish the word before tears are stabbing like daggers behind his eyes.

Something like understanding dawns in her eyes and Sam is gripping both of her shoulders now, probably tighter than is comfortable but she doesn't flinch, doesn't even blink.

"I'm sorry." he says again, "you just looked _so_ much-" he can't finish and instead just stares at her face in confusion.

But she nods and says, "It's okay." she reaches up and pries Sams' hands out of their death grip and brings them closer to her face. Looks at them and runs her fingers over the callouses, like she knows what they're from.

"But I'm not," she lowers his hands and looks him straight in the eyes, "I'm not her." Then she smiles.

And everything shatters. Because that is not the right smile. It's about pain and the end of the world and watching friends and family, loved ones, die. The smile Sam remembers is not like that. It is light and beautiful and this one is sharp and sad and all wrong.

Sam is suddenly aware that her hands are just as calloused as his, and he thinks he can see the outline of something sharp at her hip, like a knife. He is aware that she is standing on the balls of her feet, ready to run at any moment. Her body is loose and easy and will, he is sure, flow into a fighting stance at the slightest provocation. She _is_ like normal people aren't, like Sam is. A fighter. A hunter.

Sam takes a deep breath and says, "You're not her."

She shakes her head, "No, I'm not."

Sam says it again, "You're not her," cementing it.

"No," she agrees.

One more time, "You're not. Okay."

She releases his hands and Sam draws them back, crossing his arms, a barrier.

"I'm sorry," he says.

She smiles again, wider this time, more of a grin, "It's okay."

He opens his mouth, "Are you-"

"Hey!"

Sam looks over his shoulder and sees a young man with dark hair and two soft serve ice creams striding towards them followed by what is quite possibly the biggest black lab he has ever seen.

He snaps his mouth shut and takes a step back just as the man reaches the girl.

"I... got the ice cream." he says, handing her a cone and eying Sam carefully.

There in an awkward pause during which the black lab pants and stares at the ice cream with hope.

"I'm sorry," the man says. "But do we know you?"

"No," Sam says and shakes his head. "I'm just- I'll... I'll leave."

He turns to do just that.

"Wait!"

He turns around and the girl is looking at him intently.

"It'll be okay," she says with absolute conviction.

Sam swallows, "It will?"

"Yeah. It will."

She takes the mans hand and they walk away, the lab trotting after them.

"What was that about?" he hears the man ask.

"Come on, Percy," she says, "We'll be late," and any other words are swallowed up by the waves crashing to shore and the seagulls crying.

Sam watches them go until they get lost in the crowds of people on the boardwalk. Then he looks to the sky and takes a deep breath. Okay.

When he gets back to the bathrooms he sees Dean chatting up a busty brunette in a bikini. Sam picks his way through the sunbathing women and children building sandcastles to stand by his brother.

"Dean," he says, "c'mon man, time to go."

Dean waves goodbye to the brunette, promising to call her and after Sam collects his shoes they troop back to the Impala.

Dean keeps glancing at him out of the corners of his eyes and Sam would be irritated with his brother if he wasn't already so drained. Which, of course, is what Dean notices. And worries about.

"Alright," Dean says as they reach the edge of the parking lot and he waits for Sam to slip his sneakers on. "What is up, little bro?"

Sam straitens up and steps onto the asphalt. "What? Nothings up. I'm fine," he says.

Dean points an accusing finger in his direction, "Bullshit! Something is definitely up. You look all mopey," he pauses, "Well more mopey than usual."

Sam shakes his head and opens the passenger door, "Calm down Dean. I'll be okay."

Dean doesn't push the subject but with the way he keeps eying him, Sam knows they'll be discussing it later. As Dean starts the Impala Sam leans back into his seat and sighs.

It'll be okay.

**~End~**

**So in case you didn't realize, that was Annabeth (and Percy) and Sam mistook her for Jess. With special guest appearance by Mrs. O'Leary! YAY! I love that dog. **


End file.
